


Breathless

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2014 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Exhibitionism, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaqen discovers Arya working off some lingering tension after combat training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless

Her hair was matted down against the side of her face and neck, slicked down with sweat and glistening against her skin, when he found her lingering in the shadowy elbow of one of the lower corridors. A blunt practice sword hung in the loop of her belt, and while it had become commonplace to see her with a weapon at her side, this particular one was reserved for training. She was getting good enough now that it had become a hazard for her instructors to put a sharpened blade in her hands, so she left them covered in bruises and welts instead, losing herself in the clang of metal and the whisper of her boots across smooth stone. She had never attacked an assignment with quite as much passion or dedication as she did this, giving all she could until her body had no more to give. He had seen it himself a number of times, lingering at the edge of the practice gallery, far enough below the temple that the stone around them drank up the clatter of metal and shouting.

Jaqen had heard whispers of the man who first taught her to wield a weapon as well. He was treated as a legend among the bravos, and they were only too eager to speak of their experiences with him at length. Some were no doubt blatant exaggerations, but he'd been trained to find the truth among the lies. It was a strange combination of admiration and jealousy that welled up in him when he thought of the time she had spent with the man, long before Jaqen had even learned her name. He'd never had the opportunity to meet the man himself, but if what he'd learned in the canals could be relied upon, it seemed unlikely that he ever would.

But echoes of the past no longer mattered here, within these walls, and the only thing that mattered to Jaqen was what was right in front of him now.

He had been with her long enough that he couldn't be surprised when he saw her in such a state - her breeches undone and slung low around her hips, and her hand pressed between her thighs - and yet it was a sight he had no intention of abandoning until he'd seen it through. There was a look of desperation mingling with determination on her face, shoulders pinned to wall and head lulled back as she clenched her lower lip between her teeth. He could all too easily convince himself that she was doing this for him, that in the same way she had always known his face in the darkness she would be able to sense him close to her now. But if she had heard him approach, or had any inkling at all that he was lingering near, she made no attempt to betray that knowledge. 

As tension began to coil through his gut, Jaqen dug his fingers into the stone behind him, feeling the pressure in his fingernails and the ache that rolled up through his palms. His impulsive nature had often been his downfall, but he was determined not to let it win this time, no matter how he wanted to drag his hand down and palm himself through his pants. He wouldn't even allow himself the thought; this wasn't about him, and he wasn't going to make it about him either. There would be time to slip off into some dark place and attend to his own needs, later. For now there was only her, and the faint sound of her breath like the edge of a knife slicing through the distance between them.

He dragged the inside of his lip between his teeth, pacing the jagged rise and fall of his breathing to match hers, in the hope that she would not hear him over the sound of her own faint, breathless murmurs. She wouldn't have dared let those sounds slip if she thought there was any danger of being found, unless she'd already figured him out, but Jaqen clung to the hope that he could hide there among the shadows and steal this furtive moment for his own. If he could slip away without being noticed, he could tuck the sight of her like this away and drawn upon it when he was gone. There were too few moments between them, and the thrill of having taken this one surreptitiously made it all the better for him.

But it seemed he'd no sooner found her there than the muscles in her arm tensed and he heard the shudder of her breath. Jaqen pressed himself tighter to the wall, the stone scraped against his cheek and palms and dug into the sharp peaks of his shoulder blades, just enough to have him gritting his teeth in an effort to stay hidden in the heavy veil of darkness that surrounded him. He held his breath, gaze fixated on her every movement. She laced her breeches and tightened her belt around her narrow waist, leaving her shirt untucked and hanging loose across her shoulders. She looked as though she had only just stepped out of the training gallery, her flushed cheeks and labored breathing easily explained away by the blade at her side and the sweat that still clung to her body.

As she made her way down the hall towards the winding staircase, Jaqen matched his footfalls with her, slipping further back into the corridor he had only just come from. He couldn't remember what it was he had come down here for in the first place, his mind far too content to cling to the moment he'd just witnessed. He didn't let go of his breath until he no longer heard the scrape of shoes on stone around him, until it was safe to draw out of hiding.


End file.
